It’s funny how a little thing like a Pandemic can change the way people live; particularly in the way each country of the world acts and treats the issue in different ways. It may only be slight, but these differences are what make people act and think differently.
That’s what I’ve found where I come from; inconsistent messages and confusion. This unfortunately, for some, is a recipe for fear, anger, depression and down right not niceness. For others it’s “… If they can’t give the right message then I’ll do what I have to do, my way”.
In the beginning, it all kicked off so quick and the hero’s and villains quickly became apparent to the people. The hero’s: the good neighbours and hospital workers. The Villains: the supermarket rapists and toilet roll hoarders. And those in the middle, the conspiracy theorists, doom sayerists and me.
And this is where my therapeutic rambling really kicks off. Yes, Guys and Gals this is your chance to switch off your television set and go do something less boring instead.
As much as I understand all that’s going on in the world and locally, all the good and bad that’s being projected into this already struggling life we find ourselves in; it just ignites the mental health issues and selfish self-loathing that comes with it. And on top of all that comes a significant birthday for me.
This month I am the ripe old age of 52 and my mind and body are very conflicted in that fact. My mind tells me I’m still a bit of a Studley of 21 while my body says the dooms day clock is about to chime midnight. It was at this age my father met our maker after his battle with the Big C, something that has been on my mind a lot.
So, these are the kinds of thoughts running through my head at the moment.
- I’m 52 and I’m going to die
- I’m working from home and I’m going to die
- We’re in a Pandemic and I’m going to die
What joy it is to be part of the mental healthelists where the conspiracy theorists and the doom sayerists live.
And the cherry on top of this rather sour pudding are my very insignificant selfish thoughts about my lack of contributions to our community and my apologies to these that have noticed. Unfortunately, it’s all about me, Me, ME when my anxiety kicks in. It’s at these times when I go into survival mode, shut down and hibernate. I’m sure there are those of you out there that know exactly where I’m coming from (at least I hope I’m not alone).
The lack of confidence, the feeling of incompetence and in my case the inability to make any kind of decision without guilt tripping myself. And on top of this I see you Guys and Gals still writing, still publishing and I just want to:
“Stop writing JC and you won’t have to concern yourself anymore”
“But I like writing”
“Then carry on writing, just get on with it”
“But I can’t think of anything to write”
Anyhoo, I’m at that point now where I’m boring myself to death (damn missed that one off my list). So those of you that are left; well done for sticking it out this far, I have the following rhetorical questions to ask. Questions that have been flowing through the electrical fluids of my damaged mind:
- Do I close the blog, end the story, long live the Mush
- Do I close the blog, take the work and publish it for posterity, long live the Mush
- Do I close the blog, be the villain and open a new anonymous blog, death to the Mush
I guess there is a fourth option but that would mean I have to be brave, swallow my pride and put aside all stupid thoughts of stats and numbers and followers. That would mean I continue on my way, doing what I did and be the Mush from the Hill.
Does that sound like such a bad thing??!!
Love to you all
JC – aka The Mush